


Let's Agree to Call it a Compromise

by Faoi_chielt



Series: The Rule of Threes [2]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Derek Feels, Digital Art, Gen, argent feels, argent sort of adopts derek?, digital art + fic, heart to heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faoi_chielt/pseuds/Faoi_chielt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek just stared.  There was a faint buzzing in his ears and his fingertips were pressed into the concrete behind him, anxiously searching for purchase in the present.</p><p>"Why are you telling me all of this?" he managed to ask, voice hardly more than a croaking rasp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Agree to Call it a Compromise

**Author's Note:**

> missing scene from my fic "Rule of Threes", but it's not really necessary to read the main fic follow what's going on here. :)

_"We need to talk, son," Chris opened blandly._

_  
_Derek followed the Hunter into the kitchen warily.  His senses were on high alert and he was painfully aware that Chris Argent's heartbeat was as steadfast as a rock.  In Derek's extensive experience with Hunters, that was never a good sign.  Their control was generally impeccable, especially when going in for a kill shot.

"I know it'd take a whole barrel of this to even give you a buzz, but..." Argent held up an empty tumbler with a questioning gaze.  Thrown off-balance, Derek just shook his head mutely.  He didn't believe Argent was actually going to  _do_  anything to him, but Derek was well-aware that physical harm was hardly the beginning or end of an Argent's arsenal.  The older man simply poured himself a few fingers of brandy with a flick of his wrist and opened a door next to what Derek assumed was the pantry.  A wave of chilled air pressed into the otherwise inviting kitchen and Derek tensed.  A garage?

Argent stepped inside, holding the door in a show of polite formality and Derek shouldered past uncomfortably.  He eyed the small space: concrete walls, floor, and a beamed ceiling.  No windows.  It was cold and slightly damp and Derek recognized what had to be nearly a dozen gun safes lined up against the walls.  The Argent family's less-used these days SUV was parked to one side, taking up most of the remaining space.  Derek leaned back against a wall casually (he hoped) and angled his body towards the doorway.

"We need to talk, son," the Hunter opened blandly.  He stood a healthy distance away from Derek, his lean body gently curved to rest against the frame of his SUV.  

"Somehow I think that what you need and what I need are entirely different animals," Derek replied.  His body roiled with a hundred different emotions; it was all he could do to keep his voice even and hard.  Uncompromising.

Argent snorted quietly, "Clever wording.  But you couldn't be more wrong."

"...and you're going to explain this," Derek answered blandly.  "I'm so intrigued."

"You need to understand something, Hale," Chris focused those piercing eyes on him and Derek swallowed instinctively. "I don't just recite The Code like a cheap parlor trick:  I believe in it.  I _live_ it every day.  You're a born were, correct?"

Derek nodded numbly, toes curling in his boots from the effort of not displaying his discomfort with the entire situation.

"So you were raised to be aware every minute of every day just what your abilities could cost.  Not just you, or your family, but anyone exposed to your world and any loss of control you might have.  I was born a Hunter.  I'm human, yes, but that doesn't encompass my being.  My whole life revolved around the same principles as yours," Argent rolled the tumbler between his hands thoughtfully.  "I am speaking to you now as one man to another, asking you to find the humanity in me just as you've asked me to find it in yourself.  I'm not my sister or my father or my  _wife_.  I'm just a man trying to raise his daughter, trying to keep her safe... and hopefully," he sighed, sadness bowing his narrow shoulders.  "One day she'll remember what it means to be happy."

Derek just stared.  There was a faint buzzing in his ears and his fingertips were pressed into the concrete behind him, anxiously searching for purchase in the present.  

"Why are you telling me all of this?" he managed to ask, voice hardly more than a croaking rasp.

"Because I'm indebted to you, Derek," Argent set the tumbler down onto the hood of his SUV and crossed his arms loosely.  "I owe you more than I can ever hope to repay, but before I can offer you any support I need you to recognize me.   _Me_... Not as a Hunter, not as an Argent, but as a father and a man named Chris."

"Support?" Derek repeated dumbly.

"Yes," Argent smiled ruefully.  "Unless you or one of yours decides to go on a killing spree, you have my trust.  If ever you need my help, you'll have it.  Beacon Hills is to be declared Argent territory and no Hunter can enter without my or Allison's express permission.  I can't bring your family back, son... but I can help you protect the one you've begun building."

"Then why didn't you protect Erica? Or Boyd?" Derek snarled, his control teetering wildly.  "Where were you then,  _Chris!?_ "

"I told myself I wasn't welcome or needed," Argent answered sharply.  "It was a mistake.  You're just a few years older than my own daughter, but I still acted as if you were an experienced man.  I washed my hands of the entire ordeal, told myself it wasn't my problem.  You don't have all the answers, Derek, not even by half.  You're breaking."

"Fuck you," Derek narrowed his eyes, his claws scraping sharply against the concrete as they extended.

"Let us help you, Derek," Argent said, voice strangely soft.  "Deaton and I can mentor you, train you, teach you how to lead... You haven't been given a fair shot.  Let us help."

He scooped up his glass from the SUV and walked past Derek and back into the house without a second glance.

Derek sagged against the wall, his face slack with shock.  His hands were trembling with unspent adrenaline and his knees felt weak.  

_What the fuck just happened?_

**Author's Note:**

> in my humble opinion, chris argent is almost as fucked up as derek over the many hale murders plus the town being a slasher film. he seems to be a very ironclad morals kind of guy and i imagine the disillusionment that's been dealt to him is overwhelming even on a good day. i also believe that he would feel more than a little responsible, (if a bit late) that derek is kind of awful at planning and implementing himself as a pack leader.
> 
> i will always believe derek is the ideal beta at heart, no matter what color his eyes are.


End file.
